


0.2%

by tintatalk



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: :'(, A lot - Freeform, M/M, baekhyun and chanyeol love each other, my ultimate kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9646979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tintatalk/pseuds/tintatalk
Summary: Baekhyun loves Chanyeol, he does, really. But when he’s forced to choose between his life or Chanyeol’s, things get… tough.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the 2016/2017 yeolliepopday Chanyeol exchange! I wrote the entirety of it when I was overseas on holidays and unfortunately there were a few errors when it was uploaded to the main website, so I just edited it slightly. :-) 
> 
> hope you enjoy the fic!

 

The morning sky is beautiful.

Pinks and oranges. Salmon crisscrossing like interwoven threads, painting a pretty picture throughout the sky. The wispy clouds only add to this magical vista, vanilla cotton candy, a sweet visage in a world that is otherwise acrid.

Morning is when Baekhyun is able to find peace, waking up and stretching on his balcony. A little earlier would have caught him on his run, and a little later would find him in the shower. It’s only now, this exact moment when he’s able to observe the morning, watch as the sun rises and finds home in the high of the sky.

Any other morning—a year ago, a month ago, a _week_ ago—Baekhyun would’ve loved to watch the world wake. He would’ve loved to watch as the birds sung their morning tune, as the ahjummas down the street strolled on their daily walk, as the sky flitted through multiple shades of husky orange and pink. He would’ve loved to watch as the world turned from dark to beautiful.

But nothing has been beautiful ever since Baekhyun had gotten the letter that he had to die or else his lover would.

*~*

The world is fading.

They say it’s due to overpopulation, too many people using up depleting natural resources. The world isn’t meant to have such a large population. Water levels are rising, the temperature keeps increasing. Antarctica is already running the risk of melting completely, submerging a few shallow islands in its descent.

It’s a problem that has been haunting the world for decades and since then, measures have been put into place. A world government is one of them—from complete global anarchy to an intergovernmental body with total oversight. Rights are finally able to be properly prosecuted, none of this International Court of Justice bullshit. The UN is finally ratifying the Universal Declaration of Human Rights on a global scale. Cross country crimes are taken to court and there’s concrete punishment. There is a world prison for the most heinous of international crimes.

But what about overpopulation?

This has been analysed too. Long term, there is no possible solution as the world continues to grow in strength and in number. As mortality rates rise in correlation with medical advancements, people live to 80 and then more. Some to 90. A few go the whole century. Per year, there are more babies and less deaths. As globalisation increases wealth, the natural resources are the outlying variables taking a hit.

And so what did this benevolent world government do in response? Easy, selective culling.

Every 31st of December, babies born in that year are tagged. They are taken and through intricate keyhole surgery, a device is inserted. A tag—with an electronic tracking device that feeds off basic cell proteins. For every baby, somewhere across the world there is another that is tagged with the exact same device. These babies are called companions. The child then grows, from baby to adult, living life as per normal until they reach their thirtieth year.

As a result, every year, 0.2% of the population is chosen and taken to the Court of Populative Justice—a fancy name disguising what the court really is. A court for _killing_. Companions are taken to court and while two go in, only one leaves. There are usually factors regarding the judges’ decision—the potential worth of the person, what they are contributing to the world, etc. But either way, every year, 0.2% of the population enters the court of killing and only zero-point-one percent leave.

Gruesome? Yes. Unethical? Even more so. Lobbyists have tried to vote against such an entity playing God’s role, but the facts remain. The world’s population is unchangeable, _unless_ humans change it.

*~*

Baekhyun is an opportunist. If the opportunity presents itself, he will grab it with both hands. It’s precisely due to this that he’s excelled in his field. Electronics come naturally to him, having grown up surrounded by video games and the code needed to tweak. To mod and to create.

He’s a Tag Engineer now, working directly for the head of his department, Mr. Kim. It’s an illustrious position, one his parents are proud of. A role he’s proud of, himself.

Which is great. More than great even. His daring nerve spearheads to a point where not even a bottle of liquid courage is needed. A man of myth and valour, if he can say so without feeling too self-important.

Now though, now as Baekhyun waddles quite aimlessly around the junk curb, he finds that his usual courage has dissipated. Almost completely.

There’s a man who busks around the corner, who sits on the cracked concrete and plays his guitar. He sings—quite well actually, voice so low and deep it does things to Baekhyun almost every time he’s heard it. He’s gorgeous too. Tall and muscular with _big_ hands. All of Baekhyun’s wet dreams in one.

He’s there now, crooning away as he strums. His voice is a little muffled by the hustle and bustle of daily traffic, but it’s unmistakable that he’s there, deep baritone a real life bass. Loud clapping follows once he’s sung the ending notes of his song before Baekhyun hears the man thank the few that have stayed. Okay. Now’s his chance.

And so, it’s with a deep breath that Baekhyun bites his lip and heads around the corner.

A crowd cuts off Baekhyun’s view, more than the usual gathered to watch as the man finishes his set. The man sings two more songs before he wraps up.

“Thank you guys, I really appreciate it,” he smiles, wide and toothy—and _gorgeous_. “I have my mixtape here if you’d like to buy one for five. Thank you.”

After a few brief moments, the crowd eventually disperse and all that’s left is the man with the guitar. He’s packing up, removing his strap and collecting the money he’s earned. Just as he’s about to fix the clasps on his guitar case, Baekhyun walks forward, tips of his fingers numb.

It’s unorthodox disturbing the man like this, and for such a specific reason too. Usually propositions are made in bars, in places where alcohol is abundant and flowing at a constant rate. Not in the middle of busy traffic, where people are pushing through, fast and hurried.

But at the same time, if Baekhyun wants anything, he needs to step up and say something _now_. Casual dating is a thing of the past. It’s risky business building a life with someone before you’re thirty. On that off chance you’re taken to court, people don’t risk the chance to lose everything. One night stands are the norm, a fact of life and libido.

“Hey.”

The man blinks when he looks up from his guitar and a wide smile envelops his face.

“Hello there.”

“I enjoyed your set,” Baekhyun begins, reaching an arm up to rub at the back of his neck. A warm blush runs through the middle of his chest and all through his head, painting his cheeks and forehead pink. “You’re really talented.”

“Aw, thank you,” the man grins and all his teeth are exposed. His eyes crinkle slightly, eyebrows engulfed by tufts of swirly black hair. “I’m really glad you enjoyed it.”

“Yeah…” Baekhyun continues to press into the back of his neck, shrugging to remain as casual as possible. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime? Or lunch? Or even coffee! Do you like coffee?”

The man stands, slinging the guitar around his back and now that Baekhyun looks, he sees just how tall the other is. He’s _super_ tall. At least a head taller than Baekhyun himself. And fuck if that doesn’t make him feel even hotter.

The man, moving from left foot to right foot. “I would love to but…”

Baekhyun deflates, all gusto leaving him immediately. Of course he came on too strong, why does he _always_ do this.

“I have this thing.” He gestures in the general direction of his guitar with a sheepish grin on his face. “A bit inconvenient.”

“Oh!”

“Maybe you’d like to go out for drinks later?” The mans asks instead and _wow okay, yes sure_ are just a few of the words floating through Baekhyun’s head.

“Yes! I mean, yeah sure that sounds good.” Cheeks burning, Baekhyun shakes his head and powers through. “Where abouts?”

They exchange numbers, then settle on the time and place. A bar that Baekhyun’s heard of before but never been to. It’s not too far from his place, close to the CBD.

“I’m Chanyeol by the way,” the mystery stranger introduces himself and finally, he’s not a mystery stranger anymore.

Chanyeol. What a nice name, Baekhyun thinks before he reaches out to shake hands. “Baekhyun.”

Chanyeol leaves with a grin on his face and while Baekhyun doesn’t really know the other, he thinks it looks mischievous enough. He’s proven right when fingers trail down the side of Baekhyun’s arm. _That_ gets the smaller man’s goosebumps going, the feel of warm, _thick_ fingers on his uncovered skin too enticing of what’s to come.

*~*

Baekhyun orders a basic drink and sits in a booth near the right side of the bar.

Music sounds loud despite the dim lighting, thumping bass reverberating and sending mini-shockwaves through him. It’s really loud but quite pretty, a slew of figures interlaced together, dancing to their hearts’ content.

He doesn’t have to wait long before Chanyeol shows up, and he knows it’s Chanyeol despite the dark lighting because of how tall the other is. He dwarfs the rest of the men in the vicinity, tall and gangly limbs pressed neatly into his pants’ pockets. A large pearly grin is the only thing Baekhyun sees when he squints towards the other’s face, strobe lights reflecting off the shiny surface. 

“Hello,” Chanyeol says, voice almost as deep as the 808s booming through the room.

“Hi,” Baekhyun replies almost shyly, fingers twirling around the straw of his drink.

“Have you been waiting long?” The man moves to sit down on the other side of the booth, placing a drink Baekhyun had not previously noticed down on the table. It’s dark in colour, drowning in the shadows, probably coke mixed with something lethal.

“No, no,” Baekhyun smiles wide, and he flashes his eyes down towards his drink, eyelashes fluttering in his haste. When he glances back up, Chanyeol looks entranced, eyes wide. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing.

Biting the inner flesh of his lip, Baekhyun stops himself from grinning. He’s still got it.

“This is a nice place,” he says after, looking out into the multitude of bodies and lights flashing. It’s crowded tonight, the demographic young and flirty—just like Baekhyun.

“Yeah, I sometimes play here. On Wednesdays,” Chanyeol shrugs, eyes flittering over the number of dancing bodies. “The atmosphere is usually quite nice.”

“Yeah, it is,” Baekhyun agrees, he moves his attention back to Chanyeol, eager to learn more about the tall man. “So, what do you do? Do you just busk or?”

The man raises his hand and sheepishly scratches the side of his head. “I’m looking for something but the job market isn’t the best.”

That’s an understatement and Baekhyun nods, pursing his lips, knowing all too well how terrible it’s been as of late. It’s the problem that arises when people are forced to work extra hard to prove their worth. Just in case they are the ones chosen to appear before court, competitiveness is not just a word anymore, it’s a state of being.

“But I really love busking, it’s a lot of fun,” Chanyeol ends positively with a smile, taking another sip of his drink. “What about you, what do you do?”

“I’m a Tag Engineer,” he tries to play it off like his job isn’t a big deal, like he isn’t usually hated as soon as people find out what he does. But when Chanyeol’s eyes widen, Baekhyun feels a soft blush heat his cheeks.

“Wow,” the other breathes, blinking slightly in wonder. “That’s a prestigious position.”

And Baekhyun laughs because that isn’t anything close to what he would’ve categorised it as. He flicks his eyes downwards again, biting the bottom of his lip in embarrassment. When he feels warm fingers enveloping his hand, he can’t help but shoot his gaze back up in surprise. Chanyeol’s hand is as thick as he imagined it, slightly coarse to touch. It’s huge, and just as pervasive, dwarfing Baekhyun’s daintier fingers in their wake. A stark heat catches alight in the pit of his stomach. 

The night dwindles away and several more drinks are ingested. Baekhyun’s confidence seems to rise as he downs drink after drink. He pulls Chanyeol out onto the dancefloor and rubs his hands all over the other’s broad shoulders, almost as if he owned the skin that rests underneath. It’s not as if Chanyeol seems to mind, eyes burning with caustic fire as he lays claim to the thin of Baekhyun’s jeans and subsequently, his plump ass. The music pounds, thumping again, louder and louder as Chanyeol’s fingers turn rough and Baekhyun’s lips start their assault.

They kiss—it’s hard and fast, wet and domineering. Chanyeol’s hands roam from Baekhyun’s ass, pressing hard into the sides of the smaller man’s waist before they trail to reach his jaw. His hold turns gentle then, loosely handling the sides of Baekhyun’s face as his kiss turns soft. The warmth Baekhyun feels held in this embrace is overwhelming and the fire he feels in his stomach burns brighter still.

He wants this man in his bed.

And so he gets him.

The uber ride feels especially long as Baekhyun’s heart thumps like a drum, a steady beat that’s surely audible to all. His fingers rest patiently—or maybe impatiently—by the inner of Chanyeol’s thigh while the other man’s hand covers his own, warm and thick, holding him tight.

Baekhyun’s lips are on Chanyeol’s as soon as he opens the door.

“You’re so feisty,” Chanyeol moans and _fuck_ , his voice is so low, as deep as the fucking _ocean_ and sending waves of unbridled lust straight through Baekhyun. “You’re so fucking _hot._ ”

Baekhyun practically claws at Chanyeol’s clothes, pushing him hard against the wall of his front entrance. Teeth nip at the tall man’s jugular, down the side of his throat and leaving scorching red bruises in their wake. Chanyeol’s head hits the door hard, a moan ripping through his throat as his fingers clench tight into the lower of Baekhyun’s back.

“I think you’re the one who’s hot,” Baekhyun whispers sultrily, dragging his tongue from the corner of the other’s jaw and denting into a smooth cheek.

There’s a second of deep breaths and low moans before Chanyeol uses the power in the strong muscles of his to hook underneath Baekhyun’s armpit and yank him up. On instinct, the shorter man wraps his legs around the other’s waist, hands clenched tight like a vice around a strong neck. He can feel the muscles flex under his fingertips and if that isn’t the hottest thing in the world, then Baekhyun doesn’t know what is.

Thick palms clench even tighter around Baekhyun’s upper ribs before they move to hold and steady him at his ass.

“I think we can agree to disagree on who’s the hotter one here.”

Baekhyun moans and pushes his lips up to devour Chanyeol’s in agreement.

They continue to stumble down the hallway, articles of clothing de-robed at almost every stopping point. A shirt is placed in the kitchen sink. A pair of jeans on a lone lamp. Baekhyun thinks he even sees a sock hanging on the one plant he has sitting near his TV.

But as it is, they are naked when they reach Baekhyun’s bedroom and it’s with wide eyes does the smaller man stare in awe. Chanyeol is as beautiful as he had imagined, smooth skin and hard abs. His chest matches his arms, rows and rows of delicious grooves Baekhyun can’t wait to trace with his tongue.

“Why are you so gorgeous?” He asks, reaching a hand out because he can’t help himself from touching.

“I could ask the same thing,” Chanyeol says and it’s then does Baekhyun see the almost glazed look covering his partner’s eyes. With bravado, the smaller man smirks, moving his body to the side and showing off the soft of his hands along with the strength of his abs. His own aren’t too bad, if he says so himself.

“Come here,” Baekhyun beckons and Chanyeol follows like an obedient pup, walking closer and cock bobbing with the movement. He’s semi-hard and hanging like a log, a log that Baekhyun desperately can’t wait to have in his mouth.

Soon enough, his tongue catches on the head of Chanyeol’s cock, slathering attention all over the sensitive tip. Intently, he watches as the tall man’s face contorts in ecstasy, as Chanyeol’s fingers move from their clenched position by his side to grip at Baekhyun’s hair. He pulls but it’s nothing that the smaller man can’t handle, enjoying the slight pain that grips at his temples and causing him to lick with further intensity.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol swears, the word getting caught on the thick of his inner palate. He grips tighter and Baekhyun responds even more enthusiastically, head dipping deeper and engulfing a further inch of thick cock. “You’re so good, baby.”

The endearment stirs something up in Baekhyun’s chest, liking the way Chanyeol says the word to refer to him. Then, Chanyeol pulls Baekhyun upwards, and the smaller man can see the way he’s truly affected the other. Chanyeol’s eyes are wide and glassy, breathing rapid. Looking down, Baekhyun pumps languidly at the thick length, watching in awe as his fingers catch around the foreskin, pulling and revealing the reddish head.

“Are you ready, baby?” Chanyeol asks, reaching a lube covered hand out.

Baekhyun nods.

It’s a mix of pain and pleasure from then on out. Chanyeol’s fingers take care of him, inserting one, and then a second. The third comes in a little later when Baekhyun is panting, sweat slick hair sticking to his bed sheets. He hasn’t fingered himself in a while and the time it takes to truly get him ready, shows. Chanyeol doesn’t seem to mind though, eager to pleasure Baekhyun, to find all the spots on his body and make him feel good.

He has three fingers pumping in and out of Baekhyun’s body, the tip of his index finger grazing just the slight of the smaller man’s prostate every once in a while before he dislodges and slips on a condom.

“I’m gonna push in, okay?” Chanyeol’s deep voice sounds even deeper when Baekhyun’s head is stuck in his pillow. _Fuck_.

“Okay,” Baekhyun groans out as wantonly as probably humanly possible, hips undulating in eagerness.

There’s a press of fingers against his hip before Baekhyun feels the bluntness of Chanyeol’s cock push hard. A gasp escapes his mouth, eyes widening when the thick heaviness only stays within him. At intervals, Chanyeol pauses, allowing Baekhyun to adjust to the size before he continues with his steady rhythm.

Soon enough, he’s seated deep within and when Baekhyun gives him the go, oh boy does Chanyeol listen. He fucks, consistent, bucking his hips with the body strength of an Olympian. In no time, he finds Baekhyun’s prostate and artfully glides his cock against the sensitive area, causing moan after moan to escape the smaller man’s lips. They change positions once, turning from missionary to doggy style. Baekhyun’s hands and knees ache but it’s nothing that detracts from the constant bludgeoning pressure he receives in response, hard and strong, and absolutely fucking _amazing_.

Baekhyun feels like he’s on the edge of a cloud, lining just the surroundings with the tip of his toes before Chanyeol amps up the pace for what will be the final time. It’s then does Baekhyun fall, tumbling over as his orgasm crashes into him like a heavy ocean wave. He moans loud this time, mouth opened wide in mid-gasp as his body trembles and cock spurts out a fine ribbon trimming all over the bedsheet.

He slumps forward as Chanyeol rams quite jerkily, politely changing the angle as to not press hard into Baekhyun’s currently oversensitive prostate. It takes only a few short minutes before Chanyeol’s cumming too and Baekhyun can feel the warmth spread through the condom just as the tall man falls into him, losing strength.

“Wow,” Baekhyun breathes a little later when he’s sufficiently calmed down, moving his legs to the side and staring up towards Chanyeol. The other’s hair has fallen into his eyes, but damned if he doesn’t look fucking _elated_.

“Round two?” Chanyeol asks and Baekhyun’s smile widens.

“Hell yeah.”

*~*

Much to Baekhyun’s surprise, Chanyeol keeps in contact. Usually it’s safer to leave these instances as one time things, as continued contact runs the risk of _actually_ catching feelings. Baekhyun’s only 26, nearly 27, he’s not thirty yet, there’s a chance he may be picked. Chanyeol too.

But when Baekhyun asks once as they huddle together after a round of much needed sex, Chanyeol alleviates his worries.

“It’s a mutually beneficial relationship,” he smiles, and automatically the expression instantly assuages any of Baekhyun’s worries. Chanyeol knows what he’s talking about.

“Good sex, good company and good food,” Chanyeol had muttered quite lazily, raising his arms up to cuddle around Baekhyun. One of those people who liked to cuddle after a round or two, Baekhyun could understand.

Once a week becomes twice a week becomes _three_ times a week and suddenly Baekhyun’s sex drive is awoken. He’s having a very handsome man in his bed on the regular, spreading his legs and kissing him in the most intimate of places. Chanyeol always takes care of him so well and good, with large hands and a perfect teeth rich smile, something that spurs a few threads of fondness along with the usual lust that follows.

“You’re looking happier,” Jongdae comments one day at work when Baekhyun’s finishing up the last of his analyses.

“Hm?” He hums, too focused on the numbers that invade the screen of his vision. There’s been a recent rise of new age lobbyists against the current tagging system, demanding revision while complaining about morals and ethics. Whether or not the system is moral, it’s a part of life, and it’s a big part of Baekhyun’s, encompassing his own life’s work.

“You don’t look as dead when you come in the mornings,” Jongdae mutters, turning his head towards his own screen and probably looking the most like death himself.

“I’m surprised,” Baekhyun says dryly, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been flat out, this whole rebellion nonsense is tiring. You’re lucky you just work in data, they’re screwing with my device and I’m the one who has to fix it.”

It’s risky business playing with the tag, inserted directly on the brain stem. One wrong move and brain damage. Lately, certain nomadic groups have been tampering with the device and it’s Baekhyun that gets the notifications, that gets the signals there’s been some interference.

“Well, you look good. Less stressed.”

“Thanks,” Baekhyun shrugs.

Later when Baekhyun finishes up with work, he finds that his fingers are instantly on his phone and pressing the dial icon. It’s not that he’s eager to see the tall giant, it’s just what he had been telling Jongdae. He needs some stress treatment. The fact that Chanyeol answers with such a happy disposition means nothing. The image of his smiling face resonating and leaving a lasting image in Baekhyun’s head also means nothing. Nothing at all.

*~*

Six months pass, and then a year. Life goes fast when you have a job, when your days are taken up by increasing waves of strikes. The President gets caught in a scandal, media catching wind about influence being used to get his daughter out of the court. A new President rolls in. Chanyeol gets a job. Baekhyun’s grandmother dies.

Chanyeol introduces Baekhyun to his step-brother Sehun.

That’s intimate.

Baekhyun brings Chanyeol home for Chuseok.

That’s even more intimate.

They live together now, because it’s easier this way, apparently. Chanyeol’s job as a music teacher is close to Baekhyun’s apartment. They spend so much time together anyway, it’s just convenient.

That’s what Baekhyun tells himself.

In reality, he finds himself falling for the big-eared giant. They’re close now, living together, sleeping together, breathing together. Sehun comes over often and hangs on Baekhyun’s arm like the older man is his own brother.

“Babe, Sehun’s coming over soon,” Chanyeol mutters from the kitchen. He’s wearing his pair of glasses, dressed like a mess in his casual dull grey pyjamas. It’s a lazy Sunday that’s usually filled with early morning cuddles and nice afternoon sex.

“Fuck, the kitchen and bathroom is so dirty, I haven’t had time to clean it.” Baekhyun complains by the dining table, but he doesn’t even bother to lift his head. Their house is practically Sehun’s second home now, housing the other a good quarter of the time.

“Just make him clean it,” Chanyeol yawns from the sink, rubbing his eyes from under the glasses. He stands tall by the cupboards, t-shirt riding up the length of his torso and revealing a toned stomach for Baekhyun’s hungry eyes. “He comes here so often enough, he might as well start cleaning the house too.”

The sight screams domesticity but it’s nothing that fails to rile up Baekhyun’s libido, eager to see even more slips of smooth skin. There’s a yearning within him to ravish his boyfr—his, his _lover_ , but unfortunately Sehun’s coming over. So Baekhyun curbs his urges, sitting patiently like he isn’t thoroughly affected by the image of Chanyeol.

“Fair enough,” Baekhyun agrees, more to take his mind off anything than as actual agreement. But he really does think it’s fair, and probably more brotherly too if they forced the other to clean the house. Sehun would probably even respect it.

When Sehun actually comes, there is no talk about cleaning. Instead, the three sit on the couch next to the flatscreen TV, the youngest hogging the middle.

Apparently Chanyeol doesn’t seem too happy about this move.

“You take our house and then you force me out of my favourite seat,” his low voice sounds grumbly and especially deep when he’s sulky, causing Baekhyun to hide a smile under the palm of his hand.

“Hyung,” Sehun rolls his eyes, exasperated. “You can spend a few minutes away from your boyfriend, let me take him for a while.”

Baekhyun bites his lip at the word _boyfriend_ , hands instantly becoming clammy at the thought of Chanyeol as his… boyfriend. He takes a peek at Chanyeol and his heart drops when he sees a disgruntled look marring the other’s expression.

“You come to my house and you—”

“Excuse you,” Baekhyun interrupts, suddenly feeling bitter. “This is _my_ house.”

Chanyeol’s expression changes and he blinks, looking very attacked. “Why are you confronting me? This is our house now.”

“Yeah but—”

“You’re my partner, my, my boyfriend.”

“I’m…” Baekhyun’s eyes have widened, rounding like a saucer and then some. “You… We…”

“Baekhyun, I, um. Would you like to be boyfriends? I mean, I, I’ve kind of thought about you as my boyfriend for awhile now but I didn’t know if you’d like to be boyfriends. If you don’t that’s, well, that’s, uh, that’s something. Fine. It’s fine, I mean, I—”

“Yes,” Baekhyun breathes out loud, the air escaping his lungs in one large exhale. Chanyeol’s face instantly becomes lighter—very relieved.

“Oh babe…”

“Wait…” Sehun speaks and Baekhyun turns his attention to the tall man, somehow almost forgetting that he invades the space between the two. He’s turning his head from Chanyeol to Baekhyun, back and forth continuously. “So you guys weren’t boyfriends? This entire time I’ve known you Baek-hyung, you guys weren’t boyfriends?”

“Well…” Baekhyun chimes, cocking his head to the side and trying to feel less sheepish. “Being ‘together’ is a relative term…”

“Oh please,” the youngest of the trio rolls his eyes, “You guys are practically married.”

“Sehun,” and it’s Chanyeol who speaks this time, voice practically booming with vibrato. “You’d know if we were married, bud.”

“Is this you telling me you’d be even more sex crazed than you already are?” He looks a little scandalised this time, shaking his head as if to dispel some memories he’d rather forget. “You know that bottle of lube you keep in this couch really isn’t hidden well enough.”

Surreptitiously, Baekhyun shoots a look to said bottle of lube, letting out a sigh of relief when only the unbranded tip remains uncovered.

“Plus that one time I caught you… In the kitchen…” Sehun looks properly well and good and _sick_ at the thought of this one time and Baekhyun reaches a hand over to punch the youngest in the arm.

“You didn’t even call that time. It’s your own fault, brat.” Cooking had gotten out of hand in the kitchen, a matter to do with Baekhyun not wearing pants and enticing Chanyeol a little too much with his bare legs. Things took a turn real quick and when Sehun had used his spare key, he received an eyeful of something he has been complaining about since.

Sehun looks a little green now, much like the vegetables he always vouches for. Baekhyun shares a glance with Chanyeol before the two dissolve into a fit of giggles. The laughter eventually dissipates when Baekhyun remembers what Chanyeol had called him only moments ago. Boyfriend. He’s Chanyeol’s boyfriend. Chanyeol actually wants him as his boyfriend. They’re not just strangers with sexual purpose anymore. They have significance.

They’re together.

*~*

When Baekhyun’s _actual_ brother finds out about their newly announced relationship, he isn’t very happy.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He speaks as soon as Baekhyun opens the door to their parents’ home. Baekbeom doesn’t come home very often. Occasionally for Chuseok, maybe one Christmas a few years ago. Random visits aren’t a thing he does, and so Baekhyun finds himself at a loss at the sight of his older brother, of his angry face and crossed arms.

“Nice to see you too,” Baekhyun mutters, taking off his coat and shaking it. That’s the thing about the relationship he has with his elder brother. At least 75% of their total conversation consists of grunts and groans, the rest solely through passive aggressive comments. “Happy birthday for this year, and oh, Chuseok too. Easter? We celebrate that too, don’t we?”

“Ha, ha, think you’re so funny, huh?” Baekbeom juts his chin out in that way men tend to do to assert their dominance. Baekhyun just rolls his eyes. He walked into the house thirty seconds ago. Literally. And this is what he gets. “What’s this I’m hearing from mom?”

“Her favourite tteokbokki recipe?” Baekhyun comments, dryly. Reaching his hands up, he rubs his fingers in his hair. He can feel a headache coming on. “I don’t know hyung, give me a break, I literally just walked through the door.”

There’s a few nice smells wafting through from the kitchen, like chilli and spice. His stomach rumbles at the appetising scent, imagining just what his mother has cooking on the stove.

“Your new boytoy apparently,” Baekbeom continues, stepping in line with him. His arms are still crossed like unmoveable blocks. “Mom told me you have a partner.”

Baekhyun stops by the entrance to the kitchen, leaning on the wooden frame. “Oh. Jealous?”

A look of disgust rolls over the other’s face. “Hardly.”

There’s this thing about his older brother, about his _loving hyung_. If the word hermit can be used for those living in the late 21 st century, then it applies rather aptly to him. He doesn’t have friends, he doesn’t contact his family, for all anyone knows, he lives by himself with his pet fish and only leaves his house for work and groceries. Years. It’s been years like this, since he left the family home and lost contact with everyone. Including his younger brother.

Reaching his head around the corner, Baekhyun spots a pot of homemade soup heating on the stove, and he grins inwardly. Mother never disappoints. He has a bowl and spoon ready when his brother pops up beside him.

“You better break up with him,” he sounds grumpy and as serious as ever, tall figure casting a shadow over the food and suddenly making the warm broth a hundred times less appetising.

“I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” Baekhyun adds, raising his eyes to finally look at his older brother. He hasn’t seen him in a while, but the man hasn’t really changed. He’s tall, unlike Baekhyun, with black hair instead of brown. His toned forearms make him look more imposing as he stands with crossed arms and an unhappy disposition. He looks older, more mature, and now that Baekhyun thinks about it, his brother is aging, on the long road to forty.

“Maybe, but your decision is wrong.”

“Thanks hyung,” Baekhyun raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. He takes his soup and brings it towards the dining table. “As supportive as ever.”

“I’m telling you…” Baekbeom begins, warning in his tone.

“No,” the younger of the two shakes his head, dangerously raising his spoon in the air. “I know my decision is stupid, and if you have to know, it’s a casual relationship.” That isn’t anything close to the truth, but Baekhyun will lie through his teeth than give his ‘brother’ even the slightest bit of self-satisfaction. “Even so it’s not anything that anyone, let alone _you_ of all people should be lecturing me about.”

Baekhyun was barely twenty years old when his older brother lost all contact with their family. When his older brother took his belongings and ran off, leaving his phone behind. A hyung in name only. There’s nothing brotherly between them anymore.

The other stares at him, eyes hard and unrelenting. He doesn’t shake his gaze and when the staring doesn’t stop, Baekhyun raises his spoon to his lips, trying to ignore the strange air that wants to cave in to his brother’s demands.

“Good. It better just be casual.”

  _Nothing_ brotherly between them. Not anymore.

*~*

On Chanyeol’s 28th birthday, Baekhyun takes his lover out to the pet store.

“Look at this little pup!” Chanyeol croons over a small, caramel coloured puppy, eyes lighting up like a kid with a lollipop.

As soon as they had reached the store, Chanyeol had run to the windowed section and hasn’t moved since. It’s probably to do with his allergies to the other non-caged animals but Baekhyun thinks it’s adorable, especially the way Chanyeol’s especially large body seems to render everything else minute in comparison.

“We match! His fur is the same colour as my hair,” Chanyeol remarks astutely. But he’s not wrong—the soft brown caramel of the puppy’s coat matches the tall man’s hair quite suitably, if a few shades lighter.

The sight is too adorable for Baekhyun to resist, so he shuffles with a smile and takes a picture of Chanyeol staring over the puppy. He posts it on his Facebook with the caption, ’28 years old but still two puppies!’.

Chanyeol takes his time to carefully inspect each adorable puppy and kitten in the store, along with the few budgerigars and other household pets. He seems a little gloomy but overall happy when they leave and Baekhyun hangs on his arm, eager to cheer him up.

“I wish we could get one.”

“Aww, little baby,” Baekhyun pulls on Chanyeol’s strong bicep, leading him towards the day markets and taking his attention away with caramel popcorn and cotton candy. “They were really cute though, weren’t they?”

Chanyeol nods with a mouth full of sugary sweets. Brown hair covers his eyes and Baekhyun reaches up to shake his fingers through the other’s hair, wanting to see the chocolate orbs underneath. With one swift movement, Baekhyun stands on the tips of his toes and plants a quick kiss on Chanyeol’s lips. His lover’s eyes flutter in surprise before a smile eases over his face.

“That’s what I want to see,” Baekhyun reaches up to pinch at Chanyeol’s cheeks.

“Ouch.” Chanyeol removes Baekhyun’s fingers, taking his hands and holding them by his waist. “Thank you Baek. It was really nice seeing the baby animals.”

Feeling glad that Chanyeol enjoyed the experience, Baekhyun squeezes his palm. “No worries, babe. Happy birthday.”

They spend the rest of the day walking around the markets. Hundreds of people crowd the area but it’s as exciting as ever. The number of stalls make up for the influx of people, attracting many with delicious smells and bright colours. Baekhyun acquires a new sweater for the upcoming winter while Chanyeol buys another round of popcorn.

“I got a letter in the mail about writing my will.”

Baekhyun feels his heart clench at Chanyeol’s words and he continues to squeeze the other’s hand, this time with more strength. He had gotten the same letter for his birthday. It’s normal procedure but the sight of the letter is always terrifying. None of Baekhyun’s immediate family has been picked, which he counts his blessings for. Chanyeol, though, Chanyeol’s older sister Yoora had been chosen when he was 25 years old.

“It was the most terrifying moment of my life, you know, when we got the letter in the mail for Yoora,” Chanyeol speaks, and Baekhyun’s heart breaks at the sight of his boyfriend. The ghost of agony is shown hauntingly on the tall man’s face, eyebrows furrowing while his eyes turn bleak. “I will never forget the colour of the letter.”

Light red.

Everyone knows it’s light red. A simple colour for a simple letter regarding the time of your arraignment.

“I don’t understand how you were so excited when we first met and you heard that I work _for_ the people who make the tags. You should’ve been angry at me.”

God knew how many people have yelled at him, have spat at him, have cursed as soon as they found out what he does for a living. Technically, he isn’t really involved. The court process is all the way in the Hague. Only in abstract is he involved, through the tagging chips that are inserted. Inside out though, he knows how the devices work, how they’re coded and adapted to fit each and every mind.

“Why would I be angry at you?” Chanyeol asks, quizzical. His features have turned into a confused frown.

This puts Baekhyun at a loss. He’s so used to the instant hate, the glares that sometimes go past mere looks. He’s heard stories of dead sons and daughters, of an unfortunate husband or wife. For the most part, people accept it as part of their culture, what happens when you turn thirty years of age. It’s the few extras, the one or two stragglers that leave a lasting impression on Baekhyun, on a man who is just doing his _job_.

“I don’t know…” Baekhyun shrugs. “Most people are okay, but you had only just gone through the trauma months before you met me. I would’ve expected you to be angry.”

Instead of replying immediately, Chanyeol takes several moments to pause. They’re on the outskirts of the markets, a few metres away from the number of civilians that crowd the area. The sky is turning yellow, dark orange and pink, sunset fast approaching.

“It’s life, not something that we can readily escape. We’ve learnt about this since we were kids in school. Our planet can’t sustain so many of us.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Baekhyun turns his head towards the ground and he swirls his feet in the muddy grass. “But haven’t you ever thought about what those lobbyists are fighting for? Our freedom. Doesn’t that appeal to you?”

“Of course it does,” comes immediately, without even a second pause. Chanyeol sounds quite stressed as well, and Baekhyun reaches a hand out to rub softly at the tall man’s fingers. “Of course it does,” he says it again but this time, less harsh. “I wish we didn’t have this at all. The stress my mother, Sehun and I had to deal with was incredible. But regardless, I understand why we have to do this. I… understand.”

As much as he wants to agree with the other, to comply and nod like he has done so many times in school, Baekhyun can’t help but think this is a cop out answer. Yes, sure, it is the way of life, the way of _their_ lives but what if it didn’t have to be like that. What if the lobbyists were correct, what if Baekhyun could use his skills to stop this from happening? To end the cycle of fear. To stop Chanyeol from writing his will.

A cold chill grips his heart once again at the thought of Chanyeol receiving the notice. Mr. Chanyeol Park, overlayed in clean, white serif font on a light red background. 

“Imagine if we didn’t have to do this,” Baekhyun speaks faster now, a little more desperately. He takes Chanyeol’s hands within his own and holds them up high. Time is ticking. Chanyeol is twenty-fucking- _eight_. “Imagine if we could live without worry.”

“Baek.” Chanyeol warns, voice as sharp as his favourite filet knife. “I don’t like where you’re going with this.”

“But imagine—” And now that Baekhyun’s said it, he can’t stop thinking what it would be like. This is dangerous territory but, _but_ — _imagine_. “No worries, peaceful lives. A thirtieth birthday party. No wills at 29. _Children_ before thirty. Can you imagine Chanyeol? We’ve talked about children. Our little baby girl, Taeyeon.”

“We’re naming her after Dara,” Chanyeol inserts, grumbly.

“It doesn’t matter what her name is, can you imagine what it would be like?”

“I can, Baek. Of course, I can.” Chanyeol speaks again, and instead of sounding prickly, he sounds sad. Morose. A little defeated. “I think about what it would be like every day. Why was it so hard for us to get together? We were so wary because of what society tells us. That it’s safer to settle down after you’ve reached thirty. Couples with children before thirty are seen as irresponsible.”

It is Chanyeol that holds Baekhyun’s hands now, that raises them high in the air to enunciate his words. What he’s saying is nothing the older man doesn’t know already.

“Of course I think about these things,” Chanyeol voice becomes more and more upset. The setting sun paints a colourful backdrop, the pinky hues turning the scene dramatic and highlighting the tall man’s pain. “Every day. I think about these things _every day_. But there’s _nothing_ Baek. Nothing we can do at all. And I don’t want you thinking that there is an alternative.”

“But—”

“Baek,” he has a no-nonsense expression on his face now. “Trust me. There is no alternative. I would know.”

Closing his mouth, Baekhyun lets out a little puff of air. The white noise suddenly becomes prevalent and Baekhyun’s taken back into the sounds of shouting, of middle-aged parents running after their small children. The sun is really setting now, bright street lights switching on and turning the street yellow.

The harsh lines of Chanyeol’s face look severe under the beige light, turning his skin sallow. It makes him look older, less soft, like a man who has seen the world and then some.

It’s strange for a Tag Engineer to have such doubts in the system he works in. In the system he lives and breathes in. Except he does. Now that he has someone who’s inching closer and closer to the due date, he’s finally realised what the tags actually mean. What the possibility might entail. A life without Chanyeol.

And as the sun sets, as the last of the pinks and oranges fade into darkness and plunge the world into a startling dark black once again, Baekhyun realises just how similar a world without Chanyeol would be.

*~*

Days after, Baekhyun starts his own research project at work. Kind of like he’s conducting a second PhD bar the multiple editors and the stressful professors breathing down his back. Rather nice actually, and definitely not as traumatic. The only thing that is stressful is the fact that no one really knows what he’s doing in his spare time; as he takes one of their prototype tags and brings it back home with him. He disassembles the parts and hides it throughout the many pockets of his snow-jacket, walking through the scanner and watching as the machine turns green.

During the night while Chanyeol sleeps, he works, writing down his hypothesis and testing it against a number of variables. He wants to know how the tag affects the brain. Their system is designed quite plainly and broadcasted just as much to alleviate revolt. Transparency in the system. The people know what is in their heads, what is inserted, down to the type of fibreglass that is used. What they don’t know is what happens when the device is tampered with. Maybe it is possible to stop the trigger from going off, to stop the GPS from instantly locating the individual. Maybe then they’d be able to live peacefully.

When Baekhyun eventually shuffles towards the bed after hiding his equipment in a nondescript shoebox, he collapses with a loud sigh.

“Late night?” Sounds from next to him. It’s mumbled, deep and thick, hardly understandable.

“Just finishing up on some work,” Baekhyun says, eyes casting over Chanyeol’s sleepy figure. He trails a foot up a clothed leg before he wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s strong chest. A solid heartbeat thumps, slow, steady, _there_.

Chanyeol hums, drowsy, muscular arms engulfing Baekhyun, cuddling him tight. The smaller man’s cheek is pressed hard into a bony shoulder, the scent of sandalwood body wash and something purely Chanyeol, calming.

“You shouldn’t sleep so late,” his boyfriend admonishes, squeezing him tighter.

“It’s important,” Baekhyun reiterates, pressing a kiss against an unstoppable pulse.

And it really is, Baekhyun thinks in his head, it’s the most important. Something that he’s willing to lose more than just sleep over.

The days, then months pass. Baekhyun goes over his old anatomy textbooks, teaches himself all the physiology before delving into more complicated matters. The relationship between dendrites and memory loss, the brain stem and overall paralysis. These aren’t things he’s studied since university, since he was forced to undergo a few science classes as prerequisites.

Suddenly he’s at work for longer, to use the equipment he does not have at home. He grows tired but his valour does not falter. The sight of Chanyeol’s face—of his precious, beautiful, warm-hearted self blaze in his head like a lighthouse. Consistent. There is a possibility they may be chosen, a possibility that _Chanyeol_ might be chosen.

He puts his all into his work before he puts even more into his research. Months are passing at an alarming rate and yet the progress remains null. The design that’s been put into the tags is incredible, the culmination of years and years of testing, of hard work and labour. There’s antiquity in the way the GPS tracking has been coded, a skill that Baekhyun unfortunately does not have. He can focus on the device, on the lightweight material that is used to withstand head trauma and other injury, but the computer device that sends signals to each country’s consulate? Nothing. The video games he played during his undergraduate years verses the hidden secrets comprising the very foundation for their entire civilisation? Not a chance.  

He’s at work as he always is, a sunny day in April—or is it May?—when Jongdae stops him with a wayward arm. With a yawn, Baekhyun smiles at his work-friend.

“What’s up?”

If he was in his normal mind, he’d probably notice the concerned look on the other’s face, a frown marring his usual smiley disposition. There isn’t much that bothers Jongdae, grin dazzling half the population most of the time. It’s _serious_ when Jongdae is serious.

“Did you go home last night?”

“Of course I did,” Baekhyun frowns, suddenly feeling defensive.

“You wore those clothes yesterday,” Jongdae holds him by the shoulder. His fingers push hard into the side of Baekhyun’s trapezius. The hard muscle aches and the older man winces in pain. “Your shoulders are so tense.” Jongdae quickly spins Baekhyun around and a wave of dizziness passes over the brown-haired man, nearly causing him to tumble. “Fuck Baek, are you taking care of yourself?”

Taking a few seconds to calm, letting the dizziness pass, Baekhyun closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” The other’s voice sounds especially loud when Baekhyun has his eyes closed, reverberating in the corners of his head like a speakerphone in a cramped space. Loud and debilitating, Baekhyun feels himself swaying. “Fu—Baekhyun. Are you eating properly?”

He ate lunch—wait, no, breakfast. Maybe breakfast. He has memories of Chanyeol cooking pancakes. Or was that yesterday?

“I—maybe?” Baekhyun blinks, opening his eyes. The bright light burns his retinas, blurry vision taking time to clear. The image of Jongdae’s concerned face hovers above.

“That’s it, I’m calling Chanyeol to pick you up.”

“No!” Baekhyun instantly perks up, blinking his eyes faster and pushing himself out of the man’s grasp. “Don’t call him.”

He can’t be taken back home now, he’s on the brink of success. If he just spends a _little_ more time in the lab, he might be able to examine whether the inherent elasticity of the device allows it to be extracted from brain tissue without too much trouble.

Jongdae purses his lips, fingers on the brink of touching his phone. “Are you having problems at home?”

The sheer ridiculousness of the statement causes Baekhyun to send Jongdae a look. “What? _No_.”

“You’re sick Baekhyun. Take a few days off. You need a break.”

Furiously shaking his head, Baekhyun clenches his fingers into a fist. If anything, that will hinder his progress. He doesn’t have time to take breaks.

“No Jongdae. I’m not going home.”

His friend looks unhappy, hands still clenched around his phone as if ready to call Chanyeol on instinct. He doesn’t though, as he _shouldn’t_ , and Baekhyun turns back to his desk. The nonchalant expression on Baekhyun’s face fades as he loses himself in his work.

For the next few days, Jongdae doesn’t bother him. Nothing does, in fact. There is resolve in his stance as he works, as he sometimes skips lunch and powers through until the sun goes down. He’s focused, doesn’t even dare to lift his gaze from the multitude of numbers and scrawled words on his page until there’s a warm hand encasing his shoulder.

Turning his face upwards, Chanyeol smiles at him.

“Hi honey.”

“Chanyeollie…” he breathes, half wondering if this is a hallucination.

“I didn’t get to see you this morning,” the tall man presses his finger in the side of Baekhyun’s cheek, gently rubbing the skin. He looks especially tall standing above with wind-swept hair and dressed in a fashionable leather jacket. “I’m so sorry. I can’t stop apologising. My student—Kyungsoo—decided on an early morning recital. I know right? Who even does that? I wouldn’t if I could decide. Anyway I didn’t want to message and bother you, so I just decided to come and see you.”

“It’s okay,” Baekhyun breathes out, standing up and holding Chanyeol’s large hand against his face. It feels like it’s been such a long time since he’s seen his boyfriend, the sight of Chanyeol’s soft eyes and fond smile burning deep holes in his heart.

“Anyway,” Chanyeol grabs him by the hand and twirls him into his arms. Then, like a bear, he hugs him. It’s tight and warm, crushing Baekhyun’s bones and causing him to break out into a peal of laughter. “Happy birthday, my Baekhyun.”

Birthday. Oh. It’s his birthday today. Baekhyun blinks, the scent of Chanyeol overpowering his senses and turning him breathless. The leather scratches against his cheek and Baekhyun presses his lips there.

“Thank you,” he mutters, a little embarrassed when he leans back. Chanyeol just smiles his wide grin, the one that engulfs the world and all its continents.

“Are you finished with work? I have something for you.” Chanyeol says, rubbing a finger into the crook of Baekhyun’s left thumb.

There’s an urge within him to say no, to say that he has more work to do. Because he does. He doesn’t know when he’ll be finished, his long solo project turning even longer as the days go by. But he’s sold as soon as he looks at Chanyeol’s face, as the man’s hopeful expression lingers in his head and causes him to grip at the jacket with a smile. It’s his birthday, he can enjoy it with his boyfriend.

Jongdae sends him a pleased expression when he leaves early, hands surreptitiously lingering by the tall man’s side.

As promised, Chanyeol takes him out for dinner, to the nice Chinese restaurant near their place Baekhyun’s been especially eager to try. Chanyeol tells him to order whatever he wants and is a champ when Baekhyun decides on a full Sichuan menu. The tall man sweats through the spicy mapo tofu, through the beef in chilli broth and is practically on the table crying tears of spice when he bites into a hot chilli pepper. It’s a nice dinner though and under the table, Baekhyun soothingly rubs his legs into Chanyeol, consoling him through the pain.

Afterwards, they go out for ice-cream, and despite it being his birthday, Baekhyun treats Chanyeol to soothe his pain.

“What’s mine is yours after all,” he tries to appease the other when Chanyeol gets all prissy because Baekhyun paid.

“Yeah, but it’s _your_ birthday. I should be paying for you.”

Chanyeol isn’t nearly as intimidating as he usually is when he’s pouting like a big child and has a sticky patch of mint chocolate ice-cream on his nose. When no one is looking, Baekhyun stands on his tippy toes and licks it off, sending a salacious grin in his wake.

They walk down to the Han River and Chanyeol stands behind him, wrapping his arms and resting his chin on the top of Baekhyun’s head.

“Happy birthday, Baekhyun.”

“Thank you, baby.” Baekhyun smiles, eyes roving past a large billboard advertising a firm of will solicitors. Not something he currently wants to be looking at or thinking about.

The sight of the river, though, is beautiful. Lights from the buildings twinkle like stars in the dark of the night, the weather cool yet not uncomfortably cold. It’s a pretty night out and Baekhyun stares into the sky to see the actual stars, slightly hidden by wisps of sugar clouds.

“Sehun wanted to come see you today but I told him I was stealing you.”

Baekhyun chuckles slightly, rubbing his fingers over the top of Chanyeol’s hand. “You always steal me.”

“Well…” Chanyeol begins, squeezing the smaller man tighter. “Can you blame me?”

“You’re so corny.”

Memories flash through Baekhyun’s head one million miles a minute. Suddenly, he’s reminded of their first night together, filled with heady sex and lust. And then the morning after when Chanyeol first cooked breakfast for him dressed only in a pair of barely-there underpants. A wild sight and a great sight too if Baekhyun remembers correctly. They’ve known each other for nearly three years now but it feels like a lifetime.

“Baekhyun…” Chanyeol lets go of him, the warmth fading in the cool of the night wind. The man ruffles through his pockets before he takes out a small item. “It’s your 29th birthday today, and I know we have just a year left before, well, whatever happens. I just want you to know that I love you and that I’m committed to you. And that I’ll be here no matter what.”

He stretches his hand out and there sits a silver ring, petite in the large palm of his hand. The simple design shines under the moonlight, twinkling under the dozens of lights that sit above.

“This is a promise ring. I made one for myself too,” he takes his hand out of from the pockets of his pants and waves it in the air. There on his right hand lays a similar ring, slightly larger but just as beautiful. “A promise for when the time is right, I will marry you.”

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun takes a step forward, breath caught in his chest. Tears sting in the corner of his eyes, just on the brink of falling down his cheeks. “I...”

He hugs the tall man not even a second later, squishing him with all the strength in his arms.

“And then start a family. With our baby girl, Dara.”

“Taeyeon,” Baekhyun sniffles, turning his head from Chanyeol’s chest and wiping his nose with the corner of his sleeve.

“I was thinking,” Chanyeol mumbles into Baekhyun’s hair, lips brushing and sending soft kisses. “We could name her Tara. Both Taeyeon and Dara. Like the English name.”

“Ta-ra,” Baekhyun tests the word on his tongue, saying it over and over until it feels familiar and just so _right_. “I like it. Our baby girl Tara.”

They stand by the river and watch as the stars twinkle in the sky, as the lights to the houses turn off while the night rages on. Baekhyun feels the ring on his finger, thick and heavy, its presence undeniable. A token of Chanyeol’s love for him. A warmth burns bright in the middle of his chest.

Chanyeol’s lips linger near Baekhyun’s ear. “You know how I was in the bathroom for a while after dinner.”

“Yeah, your poor intestines can’t handle the burn huh?” Baekhyun tries to ignore the way Chanyeol’s husky voice sends shivers down his spine.

“Well, they can actually,” Chanyeol hums, breath puffing on the shell of Baekhyun’s ear and turning the cartilage numb. “I was doing something else.”

The tenor of the tall man’s voice turns seductive. Slow and smooth like molten honey. A wave of goosebumps appear on Baekhyun’s arms.

“Oh?” He turns his face high towards the sky, feeling the wind brush past his cheeks. Chanyeol’s face is illuminated by the street lights. He looks so devious yet innocent, causing Baekhyun’s heart to thump and limbs to clench in anticipation. “What were you doing?”

“I’ve had a butt plug in me for the past half-hour.”

The words have Baekhyun’s pulse racing, and he gulps. That’s one way to seduce a man.

“Happy birthday Baek,” Chanyeol whispers into his ear, wide lips turning into a grin and leaving a kiss not far beneath.

*~*

Time passes fast when there’s routine. Domesticity runs rampant in their homely life—especially now that rings are involved. Chanyeol suddenly feels like his _husband_. Sehun sees the rings and corners Baekhyun about not being invited to the wedding until the older man delves into what they really are. Promise rings. For the future. It’s nice having something to look forward to.

But then Baekhyun thinks about what he would do if Chanyeol is chosen, and suddenly he’s forced back into an array of work once again. He wants to spend time with Chanyeol though, and now it becomes hard to choose between Chanyeol himself or doing research _for_ Chanyeol. They’re equally as important and time is hard to divide.

He does it though, forced to find the time in between. Days are spent at work and nights with Chanyeol. They look over adoption forms, research about surrogacy and the success rate for IVF. Whenever they talk about their baby girl, Chanyeol’s face never fails to transform into a look of wonder. It’s an expression that Baekhyun wants to protect, to make sure the dream becomes a reality. Tara.

During the summer, they travel with Sehun to Busan and then to Jeju. There’s alcohol by the beach and clubbing at night. Suddenly, Baekhyun feels young, like the multiple billboards they passed about will solicitors and family insurance is not something that may soon be a reality. He’s written his will already, not like there’s much in his name. Chanyeol hasn’t seen it though, and it’s not something he hopes Chanyeol will ever see.

During Autumn, Baekhyun takes off even more time from work. Together with Sehun and Yoora they visit Chanyeol’s relatives in the US and attend his cousin’s wedding. The day is filled with flowers and smiles, a photographer and a gentle press against Baekhyun’s ring. Chanyeol smiles when he catches Baekhyun’s eyes and he holds the older man’s right hand, a promise— _the promise_ —of what is to come.

They drive from LA to San Francisco, the warm air washing over their skin like a tender cloth. Baekhyun drives for most of the way, eyes on the road while Chanyeol’s soothing hand occasionally brushes by his lap.

“Can you please stop doing that, you know noona and I can see everything you’re doing.” 

Sehun doesn’t sound very happy but Chanyeol doesn’t stop. From Baekhyun’s peripheral vision, he swears he can see a mischievous smile cross the other’s face.

“I’m not even doing anything Sehunnie,” Chanyeol turns to face the passengers in the back. He removes his large hand from Baekhyun’s thigh. “Plus, noona is sleeping.”

“Lucky for her,” Sehun grumbles.

With a quick check in the rearview mirror, Baekhyun sees the pout on Sehun’s face and he smiles a little at the sight. It’s been years but Sehun has always, _consistently_ played the role of the youngest perfectly.

They sojourn at a pitstop not long after, with Chanyeol complaining about the need to stretch his legs.

“If you had legs like these Baek, you’d know,” he says, stretching his arm around the back of his neck. A loud popping noise sounds causing Baekhyun to cringe.

Watching as Chanyeol runs off into the McDonalds, Baekhyun turns to rest on the hired car, hearing a door bang shut behind him.

“Did hyung need to use the bathroom?”

“Yep,” Baekhyun nods, turning his head to smile at Sehun. The other looks a little battered, the six hour trip turning into something a lot longer due to traffic. “We’ve lived together for a few years now, I don’t know why he needs to pretend he’s ‘stretching his legs’.”

Sehun shrugs, cocking his head from side to side. Thankfully there’s no popping sound this time. “He just wants to impress you.”

Raising his hand up in the air, Baekhyun watches as the ring on his finger glints under the bright sunlight. “I think I’m pretty committed already, he doesn’t need to impress me anymore.”

The younger man hums and he stands with crossed arms by the car. Silence lingers on for a few moments as Baekhyun watches a slew of people enter the slightly old McDonalds.   

“Baekhyun-hyung? Can I ask you a question?”

Sehun sounds hesitant and Baekhyun turns to face the other once again, curious.

“Of course Sehun.”

“I was just wondering… what will you do if either of you two get the notice?” Sehun’s voice remains careful, pausing before ending high. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

The question makes Baekhyun pause, not having thought about tags or notices in a while. He’s been focused on spending time with Chanyeol, having taken Jongdae’s advice to enjoy his time with his lover. So far, there isn’t much he’s been able to conclude, and what he’s really been doing is _wasting_ time.

It’s unlikely that Baekhyun will receive a notice on his birthday, born towards the beginning part of the year. Companions receive the notice on the younger companion’s birthday and given a year to do as they wish before they are needed in court. If Chanyeol is chosen then he will most likely receive it on his birthday, having been born towards the end of the year.

“I… don’t know,” Baekhyun answers truthfully, biting his lip. He rubs at the ring on his finger, temporary solace in a world full of cruelty. “I really have no idea.”

And he doesn’t, he really doesn’t. When they reach back home, he spends more time with Chanyeol and less time at work. The constant love and affection causes the younger man to flourish, to smile even wider—if that’s possible—at Baekhyun. Chanyeol’s birthday passes with a home-cooked dinner and loving cuddles. They spend the day out at Lotte World and Chanyeol screams his lungs out. Not that Baekhyun isn’t just as bad.

Christmas is spent with Baekhyun’s parents while New Year’s is with Chanyeol’s mother. Chanyeol’s job as a music teacher is put on hold when he starts rapping at an underground bar. Friday nights are spent in a hole-in-the-wall while Chanyeol raps his heart out. It’s exhilarating, _mind-blowing_. Baekhyun’s 30 th birthday is enjoyed at the bar before he’s pressing Chanyeol into the sheets, nipping at a strong jaw.

Suddenly it’s weeks before Chanyeol’s birthday and Baekhyun has no idea what he’s even done this year. He’s taken it easy, slow and steady, and while it seems like he’s in the clear having not received a notice yet, Chanyeol’s birthday is coming up. Chanyeol _might_ get chosen.

Jongdae has to calm him down at work.

“Baekhyun, steady, okay?” He holds him by the shoulders, allowing Baekhyun to rest his weight against him. “Breathe in and out, deep breaths. Slowly.”

Inhale. Exhale. Baekhyun does what he’s told until his pulse stops racing and his heart isn’t stuck in the middle of his throat.

“You’re freaking out too much over this. We haven’t been chosen yet, what is the chance Chanyeol will be?”

While that’s true, Baekhyun knows of people who have been chosen. His ex-lover Yixing, his former classmate Joonmyun... Joonmyun didn’t even make it.

He feels his heartbeat stutter in his chest at the thought of Chanyeol ending up like Joonmyun.

Instead, Baekhyun focuses on his plans for Chanyeol’s birthday. There isn’t much he can do besides sitting and waiting the time out. He’s not really sure what Chanyeol wants for his birthday, having gone on two quite big trips in the past year—unfortunately Baekhyun’s home-cooked meals are not up to that kind of standard.

He does decide on making dinner though, and he buys the ingredients to make bo ssam the day before. That night, he tries to hide the pork belly and kimchi in the fridge to no avail.

“You’re making bo ssam?” Chanyeol asks excitedly as soon as he opens the bottom cabinet in the fridge.

It’s the most excited expression he has seen on the other’s face for a long while, having been stressed out with the prospect of Baekhyun’s notice appearing in the mail ever since May.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he says slightly mopey, except those feelings fade when Chanyeol’s smiley expression does not.

A big lump of tree hugs him then, and Baekhyun’s nose is stuffed in a wide chest. The refrigerator beeps, ringing unerringly but Chanyeol stays wrapped around him, grin plastered happily into his lover’s hair.

He stays wrapped around him the whole night, especially clingy when Baekhyun goes to brush his teeth and forces the other to do the same.

“I just want to hug you,” the large man-child whines, arms still crooked rather sulkily around Baekhyun. “It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Well, that’s not something he can argue with so Baekhyun acquiesces and bundles his arms around the man too. He never fails to be thoroughly enveloped by Chanyeol whenever they cuddle in bed and this time is no exception. Sound is always so narrow yet so loud when his ears are stuck under the pillows and driven into Chanyeol’s heartbeat. It’s the consistent thumping that he hears late at night like a soothing mantra. _Thump, thump, thump_.

He kisses Chanyeol good morning and happy birthday, watching as the man’s face turns warm, snuggling into Baekhyun’s shoulder.

“Good morning beautiful,” he whispers back, eyes blinking blearily. He yawns, quite a gigantic yawn for seven in the morning, before he pulls Baekhyun into a kiss. “And what a happy birthday it is.”

Baekhyun has barely enough time to make Chanyeol a western breakfast complete with eggs, bacon and slightly burnt toast on the side. He serves it with a lascivious grin on his face, and totally obscene boy shorts.

“What are you trying to do to me?” His lover chokes, eyes catching the sight of seductress Baekhyun. And it really is seductress Baekhyun, because he’s pulling out all the moves this time. A knee bent slightly, an oversized _crop-top_ half falling off his shoulders.

“Nothing,” Baekhyun smirks, but he’s put the food on the bedside table now. He crawls up Chanyeol’s torso—leisurely like a panther, or maybe a lynx, small and lithe but just as fierce. “Nothing at all.”

A minute or two of teasing with the barest touch of velvet lips and scorching hands is enjoyed before Baekhyun sits up, scanty mess of a t-shirt riding up with him.

“I gotta go to work now, babe,” Baekhyun smiles when Chanyeol pouts like a kid, eyes crinkled and lips tight. Reaching over, he pats his boyfriend on the cheek. “I’ll come back early to make dinner—since you already know about it now.”

The rest of his day is spent at work, head in the clouds. He has managed to push the thought of the notice out of his head for a while now, focused solely on Chanyeol himself. Jongdae hovers over him the whole day but Baekhyun ignores his presence, trying to remain as calm as possible. He hasn’t gotten a notice yet, what really _is_ the chance that Chanyeol will get one?

The hours roll on, too fast to even count. Soon enough Baekhyun is parked in his driveway, unease spreading through his gut in waves. He sits, counting each breath he inhales and every subsequent exhale, drilling the pattern in his mind before he’s ready to leave.

He doesn’t want to open the post-box, he _doesn’t_. There is nothing he wants to see less than a light red envelope that is almost too terrifying to imagine. But he has to, he has to step forward and face the consequences, see if there’s a letter in the box. And so he opens it—fingers gripping the handle and pulling until… until…

Nothing.

There’s nothing in there.

In delirium, Baekhyun waltzes into the house, throwing his bag in the living room and almost jumping for joy. There was _nothing_. Nothing in the box, nothing in their post-box at all. Chanyeol is most likely _free_.

A noise from the kitchen alarms him and with haste, Baekhyun moves to investigate. His face lights up in glee when he sees the sight of Chanyeol and Chanyeol’s—Chanyeol’s _devastated_ expression.

“Baby?” Baekhyun questions softly, preciously.

There are dark hollowed circles under his eyes, like stormy rainclouds ruining a picturesque day. His mouth is turned down almost gruesomely and his hands clutch a _light red envelope._

No… wait…

 _Two_ light red envelopes.

A loud gasp escapes Baekhyun and he runs, feet tripping over the cool linoleum floor and stumbling into the kitchenette. He regains balance fast but his hands claw at the envelopes, nails biting into the flesh of Chanyeol’s hand like the knives that rest only a few metres away.

There’s startling white cursive on the first envelope fading into a pinkish light red, just like they’re always told it’s meant to be. Beautiful typography, and probably handwritten too, the letters looping like a fast action rollercoaster. The same nauseous feeling Baekhyun experiences after a ride at Lotte World is similar to the one he’s experiencing now, staring at a name he knows only too well.

_Dr. Baekhyun Byun_

Hands shaking, Baekhyun braces himself and turns over the second envelope, similar in both colour and weight.

_Mr. Chanyeol Park_

He can’t believe it.

This isn’t possible.

Why did they both receive it on the same day? Why did they both receive it at _all_? This isn’t possible. How can it be possible?

How is this possible?

And his research…?

How can two years worth of fucking _null_ research come to this point, to this one moment where he realises that well, _fuck_ he hasn’t found out anything. Nothing. Jack shit is all he’s got, the result of two years of his life, now wasted away because he didn’t _really_ think they were going to be chosen.

“Baekhyun,” a familiar voice is loud in his ear, forceful hands gripping his shoulders like bear claws. Abstractly, he realises it’s a tight grip, somewhat painful, but it’s nothing that stops him from shaking. And that’s when he realises he _is_ shaking—fast and unsteady, like a rackety old kettle boiled to whistle-point.

How could they be chosen? What allowed them to both be chosen? Either he dies or _Chanyeol_ dies? That’s what it means right? Both notices received on the same day, at the same time?

“Baekhyun, calm _down_.”

And fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ his stupid fucking research. All for fucking nothing. For fucking _nothing._ He slacked off, too fast, too soon. But even so his research is worthless anyway. What good has come out of studying autonomic neuropathy, researching the effects of spinal cord injury, _experimenting_ on neural stem cells when one of them can’t even fucking _live_? He’s not even a scientist by profession.

Gasping loud, his hands suddenly shiver, the central aircon turning his wet hands, cold. Wet _?_ That’s a new one, but wait, oh, he’s crying. Bawling. Crying and shaking and gasping and Chanyeol is holding him but nothing is going right and they’re going to fucking die and, and, and…

It goes on, for much longer. He doesn’t realise how much time he’s spent sitting by the kitchen, heart choked up in his lungs and head buried into a warm heat. It’s Chanyeol, most probably, because when isn’t it Chanyeol. Sweet, loving Chanyeol who takes care of him, who acts like a kid at times but holds him and rocks him, and protects him for hours when one of them is going to fucking _die_.

Fuck.

Fuck. _Fuck_.

The house is dark when Baekhyun manages to open his crusted eyelids with the weak strength that he somehow still has. Warmth wraps around him like a precious oven-mitt and he stays there, the intoning _ba-dumps_ a soothing tune for his weak heart.

The past tears have dried leaving his cheeks sticky, but he’s sure if he had any more tears left in him they’d continue to stain Chanyeol’s hoodie. Eventually, when he remembers how to crook his neck up, he looks through glazed eyes to see an even more heartbreaking sight.

Chanyeol’s tears.

His boyfriend’s beautiful eyes are tinged a dark, puffy red, eyelashes still dewy. Cheeks flushed and mouth clenched shut, it looks like he’s been hiding his tears. Hiding his tears so Baekhyun could have his time to cry.

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun whispers, brokenly, cracked, heart teetering off a cliff and shattering like a low carat diamond.

“Baby…” Chanyeol whispers in return, clearing his throat to discard all phlegm. Then, he removes his arm from the inner of Baekhyun’s waist and instead holds him by the jaw. His grip is tender, the softest touch, Baekhyun’s gentle giant. With a large thumb, Chanyeol smoothens his finger under the baggy crease of the older man’s eyelid, clearing all gunk and tear residue.

“Chanyeollie…” he whispers again, clutching his eyes shut when the memories hit him.

The other manages a weak smile but the sight of his completely destroyed expression, of his puffy eyes and sunken cheeks—of teeth bitten lips? It drives daggers into Baekhyun’s heart, like he hasn’t already experienced the worst heartbreak.

On occasion, Chanyeol does cry. He cries much more often than Baekhyun himself. Stress relief, he calls it. All Baekhyun does, all Baekhyun _can do_ is rub his back and tell him how much he loves him. That things will get better.

But now…

Now…

Baekhyun can’t make those promises anymore.  

“What are we supposed to do?” He asks when the silence lingers on.

Instead of responding, Chanyeol continues to hold him, to rock him in his grasp. Like a swaddled baby in their precious crib. They are two babies in need of some desperate help right now.

A noise growls loud and it takes a few seconds for Baekhyun to realise it’s his stomach grumbling.

“I think we need to make that bo ssam first,” Chanyeol sends what looks like the weariest smile Baekhyun has ever seen.

It takes a long time before they feel even the slightest bit okay to leave each other’s embrace. They don’t stray far, hands clasped tightly as Baekhyun removes the ingredients from the fridge. The time it takes to prepare the meal feels short when they remain silent. Instead, they show strength through touches, through fervent grips. Chanyeol starts sniffling when Baekhyun slices up the fresh kimchi and the older man stops, chest paining with increasing intensity.

Baekhyun sets the table, or at least tries to. His hands can’t stop shaking, and he fumbles with the chopsticks, dropping them on the floor. Chanyeol’s hands steady him, hold him tight, causing the tremors to briefly cease. He’s the one who sets the table instead, continuing to hold Baekhyun with one hand as he leaves a spoon and a pair of chopsticks for the two of them.

Dinner is met with the same silence, soft chewing and occasional slurps. They’re huddled together, bodies pressed together like a package and legs just as neatly entwined. When the memories hit Baekhyun, Chanyeol shushes him, presses his lips against the older man’s forehead and whispers:

“I love you.”

Sleep does not come easy. There’s no birthday sex either, Baekhyun thinks wryly, libido completely dead in both of them. Instead they cuddle, arms bound, bodies pressed hard, mouths touching. They kiss—long, steady, languid, forceful, helpless, vulnerable, exposed, weak, forlorn, _desperate_. Their mouths are attached until the late hours of the night, until Baekhyun’s lips are kiss swollen like in all the romance fiction he’s read. Chanyeol’s lips are as equally red and bruised, plump but no less eager. He comes back down on Baekhyun with even more strength, roving again and again and again.

This isn’t a sexual kind of kiss, no desire building in either of them. This is comfort of some sort. Reassurance. The need that forces them to connect their lips despite their fatigued limbs and tired souls is never-ending. Eventually, sleep overtakes them and they slumber for a few hours until morning.

Baekhyun takes the day off.

And then the next day. And the next. And the next.

Neither of them are fit to work. Baekhyun’s hands shake and Chanyeol’s eyes water. It takes at least three days for them to accrue enough strength to open the notices, and that’s what they are. Notices. Simple font, simple words. Arraignment in one year’s time.

Baekhyun’s holding his notice, fingers curled around the red edges when Chanyeol’s fuse finally blows.

“Why the _fuck_ are we chosen together?” It’s especially loud in a house that’s been filled with silence and Baekhyun flinches, almost dropping the letter.

“Chanyeol…”

The tall man’s hands are slinking through his hair over and over, desperately pulling at his beautiful dark locks. With heavy breaths, he turns and Baekhyun can catch the frantic look in his eyes. There’s something more than worry there, there’s anger.

“How is this possible? Are they stalking us? The government? Out of every male in the world?”

“Chanyeol…” Baekhyun presses again, a little harder.

“What are we supposed to _do_? We’ve been cooped up in here for the past few days waiting for our fucking crucifixion?” He’s pacing now, voice low. Up and down the kitchen, stomping on the cold flooring with heavy steps. 

It’s usually hard to take Chanyeol seriously when he’s wearing his cuddly hoodies and has the softest, puppy hair. Now though, Chanyeol is serious. He’s furious, and rightly so. When there’s anger fuelled by worry, the combination is lethal.

“This system was designed for international companions, not country-wide companions. Not people who have the chance to live in the same city, who have the chance to be fucking _boyfriends_.”

“Do you… do you think…” Baekhyun clears his throat and starts again. “Do you think companions have a higher chance of attracting each other? Due to whatever’s coded in our brains?”

What a study that would’ve been, he thinks a little cynically. Not that it would’ve been helpful at all. But then again, nothing has been helpful.

It’s strange though, to think that there is a possibility their love, their initial attraction was built on some strange artificial code that was inserted within them.

“Who the fuck knows?” Chanyeol shrugs, stopping by the counter and taking a deep breath. “I just. What are we supposed to do?”

What they do _is_ send an email, the logistics cleanly stated. Hello so-and-so, we’re so-and-so and we have been chosen as companions. It’s a nicely written email and Baekhyun feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders when he presses the send button. Chanyeol looks much less stressed too, the heavy creases in his forehead finally alleviating.

“Baby…” Chanyeol hugs him when Baekhyun switches off the computer, pressing his lips onto a warm forehead.

“Let’s go to bed,” the older man leads with a straightened palm, fingers guiding Chanyeol and pressing into a lower back. His battered heart feels slightly less stressed now that he’s lodged a complaint. At least they’ve done something.

When he returns to bed, the sight of Chanyeol laying on top of the covers is gorgeous. His boyfriend’s long figure is always a sight in itself, smooth skin and muscular torso. But the niggling feeling in the back of his head pings loudly again. It’s something he tries to ignore, closing his eyes and breathing deep. Except the pinging reigns on as he moves to lay by Chanyeol, a painful reminder. _Not today bitch_ , it reminds cruelly. _You’re companions_. _You’re going to die. Chanyeol is going to die._

They’re going to die. Chanyeol is going to die.

He’s going to be alone and Chanyeol is going to die.

He swears he sees Chanyeol leave the bed but the movement is in slow motion, like he’s heavily affected by some alternate substance. It’s not like his vision is any better, wavering too much to really see what’s in front of him. Baekhyun feels his knees tremble, the weight astoundingly heavy and drawing him to his ankles. Can he breathe? He’s not sure.

“Baekhyun,” there’s a glass of water in his hands now, but it’s Chanyeol who’s holding his fingers around the cup, cradling him. “Drink. Slow.” His voice sounds far away, muted, as if they are dunked underwater.

Baekhyun takes sips and then gulps. Big, sloshing gulps that spill from his mouth and drip onto the carpet. Chanyeol continues to force him to drink, more gulps, until Baekhyun’s pulse isn’t racing and his vision isn’t wavering in front of him. His hands continue to shake but Chanyeol reaches for them, never flinching, never faltering. Big brown eyes remain a steady presence, searching Baekhyun.

“Chanyeol,” he gasps out, loud and raspy before his eyes sting with the first hint of tears. He’s crying now, the big, ugly sobs that he released on the day they received the letters.

A pair of arms engulf him, arms he knows so well. Baekhyun’s hands shake, but they move to touch Chanyeol. Reassurance. He’s there. He’s not dead.

He’s not dead.

Not yet.

“Shh,” Chanyeol rocks him, and now that Baekhyun can somewhat see, the tall man is crying too. His cheeks are damp and they shine under the bedroom lights. Chanyeol buries his head into Baekhyun, fingers reaching down to hold Baekhyun’s hand. He presses the ring that remains immovable, always there. “I promised you, baby.”

Memories run through Baekhyun’s head as Chanyeol continues to press the silver band, the weight a welcomed distraction. The sight of the Han River, of pretty night lights and twinkling stars. Of a confession—Chanyeol promised he’d marry him after all. When the time is right.

“I’m not leaving you,” Chanyeol lets his lips linger under Baekhyun’s ear and speaks low, deep, serious. “I promised you. I _promised_.”

“You promised,” Baekhyun reiterates, rubbing his ring and memorising its weight. “You promised.”

They don’t get much sleep.

*~*

Baekhyun’s panic attacks eventually fade. Chanyeol is always there for him. _Always_. There is never a moment when Chanyeol isn’t there to hold him, to kiss his cheeks and tell him how much he loves him. It takes a few moments until Baekhyun is able to reorient himself and calm down. But he does. He always does. He presses his ring against his chest and breathes in deep, he reminds himself of Chanyeol’s promise.

One day when Chanyeol is forced to go to another student’s recital, Baekhyun receives a visitor.

The sight of his brother on their front steps is such a shock, Baekhyun nearly shuts the door on instinct.

Baekbeom strikes an arm out to stop it from closing.

“I didn’t drive an hour just for you to shut me out.”

“Hyung…” Baekhyun replies, mouth wide and squarish in surprise. “I… you… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

And that’s an understatement. He’s sure he doesn’t look the best either, prominent dark circles under his eyes. He had run his fingers through his hair this morning and he swore his fingers had come back with lump of grease only found in mechanical engines.

“Me neither,” Baekbeom says, stepping into the house and moving his head to look around. He shakes his coat off and drops it on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Nice place.”

“Thanks…” he responds, watching his brother with wary eyes. If anything, his heart is definitely not in the right place to fight today. He doesn’t think he can handle it.

“So where’s the boytoy?” Baekbeom asks once he’s walked through the entrance and looked at all the souvenirs placed neatly throughout.

“He’s at work…” the younger shrugs, slipping his fingers into the front pockets of his pants. He stands behind his brother, watching as the other turns around with a raised eyebrow.

“On a Saturday?”

“His student has a recital.”

“Ahh... Of course he does.” Baekbeom nods, but something about the movement rubs Baekhyun the wrong way.

“You don’t have to be so patronising all the time,” he says with a little of his usual fire. He wishes he could be as strong as he normally is. “My boyfriend is an amazing music teacher, and if you don’t respect that, you can get the fuck out of my house.”

Baekbeom stills, standing by the lone archway near the living-room, a dangly trinket hanging close to his face. He doesn’t say anything, and his expression doesn’t reveal much either, lips pursed—but Baekhyun stays unrelenting.

“No, I’m sorry, I want to speak with you.”

It’s such a change in character and in tone too, causing Baekhyun’s eyes to widen. Baekbeom looks so respectfully apologetic and he moves to sit on the sofa, as good-naturedly as possible.

Baekhyun follows.

“Mom told me about what happened.”

“She did, huh?” Baekhyun closes his eyes. He guessed that’s what happened, why his loving brother decided to pay a visit. There is no other reason for him to. “Here to laugh at me? To tell me how _you were right_?”

Baekbeom is silent, face serious. He stays quiet for a few seconds before he starts to speak.

“I used to have a ring like that,” Baekbeom nods towards Baekhyun’s left hand and the younger man ignores the instinct to shied away. “A long time ago. You were, what, I think maybe 18 or 19 at the time and I… I had someone just like you do now.”

This is news to Baekhyun. He didn’t realise his brother had ever been in a relationship, even before he became the hermit he now is.

“She was… well,” he laughs a little now and it sounds weary, nostalgic, powerful. “She was my everything. Her name was Eunji. I was known as a noona-killer, but she… she killed me. My beautiful Eunji.”

He clenches his hands together, biting his lips and suddenly Baekhyun knows where this story is going.

“It was different back then. The public judgement was a lot more severe. You weren’t supposed to have partners, and for good reason too. We found out too late when Eunji was chosen. When her notice was sent in the mail. When we found out she had one year left.” Baekbeom’s voice turns sorrowful. He sounds hurt, old wounds reopening. “We really are similar, dongsaeng. Our loved ones and their music. My beautiful Eunji was a band conductor. She had a knack for it. She was wonderful.

“I went to a concert once and it was amazing. She stood in the front, hands in the air while the whole band followed her. _Her_. She led them, and she was perfect for it. Except we knew, in terms of the court, she didn’t have a chance.”

Baekhyun closes his eyes in pain. He knows what’s going to happen if he goes to court with Chanyeol. Who will be the last man standing. It’s not even a contest, a Tag Engineer or a Music Teacher.

“She was so strong until the end. She had a beautiful smile on her face, even at the airport.” Baekbeom’s voice croons wistfully, a sheen of nostalgia flittering over his face. “She told me she loved me, and that she wanted me to have a wonderful life. We both knew it was the end.”

“Hyung…” Baekhyun begins, reaching a hand out to grab at his brother’s. Baekbeom stares at him, and it’s only then does Baekhyun notice the slight glistening of tears. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

“I didn’t want to trouble you guys,” Baekbeom admits with a loud sigh. “It was easier just to leave and start anew.”

It’s disorientating to think that his brother had been a victim this whole time. Someone like him.

“And then you went into the tag career and I hated that you became a slave to the system. A system so corrupt. They say they prosecute the big shots who pay to keep their children out. Like the president? It’s all a fucking lie. They don’t prosecute them. It’s all hush hush _and_ the children are released. For free. Meanwhile us.”

There’s fire in Baekbeom’s eyes and acid on his tongue as he spits at the system they’ve lived and breathed in. Not like Baekhyun disagrees even the slightest, heart panging at the reminder that he may soon be one of the casualties.

“I love you, my dongsaeng. I know our relationship has been, well, tough isn’t the least of it. But I want you to know that if there’s anything you need, I’m here. Our parents are here,” he squeezes Baekhyun’s hand this time, callouses rough on the younger man’s skin.

“Mom hasn’t stopped crying, has she?” Baekhyun asks, feeling slightly aloof.

Baekbeom’s lips purse and he briefly shakes his head, a no. “Her baby boy has been chosen, she’s pretty much been a wreck.”

That hurts, a lot actually. It’s strange to think about him being chosen in this abstract way. The effects of being chosen hurt but who they really hurt are those close to him—his family, his mother, his brother, his lover. And vice versa because Chanyeol’s chosen too and there’s no simple out.

“Did you call them regarding how both you and your partner are companions?”

“I sent an email, yes, but they practically replied with ‘it’s not our problem’.”

And maybe it isn’t, but there’s nothing more devastating than receiving an email that makes you lose all hope. And all hope in the society you live in. Maybe his pain has dulled in this strange roundabout way. He can’t imagine his death like he once did when they first received the notice. It’s muted, less intense, the pain has built in the pit of his being like a heavy flame—but he eventually realises he doesn’t feel that pain anymore because he’s already burnt. Devoured by the flames. There’s nothing left.

Baekbeom tsks and he stares at the younger man for a few seconds. Then, he opens his arms and Baekhyun immediately jumps into his elder brother’s embrace. The hug is slightly awkward, heavy arms and lots of empty space. It’s obvious his brother hasn’t hugged anyone in a while, especially not his younger brother. But it’s comforting nonetheless, feeling the warmth of someone besides Chanyeol, Sehun and his own mother taking care of him.

“Have you thought about doing anything? Running?” Baekbeom mutters lowly into his hair causing Baekhyun’s heart to jump. He guesses they’re brothers for a reason.

“I have…” Baekhyun admits for the first time, leaning back and averting his gaze. This isn’t something he’s told anyone, but when he sees the encouraging look in the other’s eyes, he continues. “I’ve been researching tags. I thought maybe I could disable the tracking device, the GPS lodged in it? Maybe modify it a little to portray a deceased reading.”

“You’ve always been a smart cookie, but something happened, didn’t it?”

Baekhyun sighs, fiddling with the ring on his finger. “They’ve designed it too well. _Too well_. There are too many failsafes in it. I have a few prototypes at work and if you mess with the device, it goes off. Like a bomb. You’re dead. It’s so delicate, even just the slightest niggling is enough. The inherent elasticity only extends to head trauma. Nothing else.”

A large hand grips his once again, rough yet comforting. Baekhyun squeezes back in appreciation.

Baekbeom has to leave soon after but he promises to come back, which is immediately, a lot different in character from his old brother. A man who’d never promise anything and left without goodbyes.

“I’ll keep in touch, okay dongsaeng? Keep safe.”

*~*

In retrospect, a year goes by quite quickly.

Baekhyun watches as the seasons change, as the leaves return to the trees, as the flowers bloom gorgeously. He stands by the window, resting a hand against the cool glass and leaving a fingerprint against a world that is overflowing with colour. When he turns to face Chanyeol, he sees the same starburst of colour radiating from his boyfriend in everything he does.

Chanyeol smiles and even with just that, he’s imparting happiness into the world. He’s a man that never fails to have energy, and he pulls Baekhyun. Baekhyun who has turned much into the hermit his brother used to be, who has turned into someone who wants to stay at home. He hasn’t left the house for things much other than milk and rice, for simple vegetables.

Realistically, they both know who is going to die if they leave it to the court. And yet Chanyeol is filled with life, eager to see the world and communicate as if he didn’t have a time limit imposed on him. It’s mindboggling for Baekhyun who feels like all energy has been drained out of him, whose skin has sagged and shrivelled, whose heart feels as dead as a rock in his chest.

But Chanyeol is unrelenting. He grabs Baekhyun and lifts him up, large hands cupping him as if he were the most delicate flower.

“Come, Baekhyun,” he says and Baekhyun follows.

They go everywhere—directions typed into Google and taking them off. Gone. To the beach, to the sea, to the park, to the mountains. Walking, climbing, swimming, skating. Laughter, happy smiles. Sehun tagging along. Yoora giving Baekhyun a kiss on the cheek. Baekbeom making lunch for them.

Chanyeol suddenly starts taking pictures everywhere. They stop by the ocean and he’s a selfie king. He’s wearing a dark grey tank top that exposes his arms and Baekhyun laughs at him.

“You’re such a narcissist,” he giggles into his boyfriend’s large biceps, not-so secretly liking the way they wrap around him.

“That’s only because I’m so good-looking,” Chanyeol waggles his eyebrows under his Ray-Ban’s.

“Exactly. You’re a narcissist,” Baekhyun replies fondly, watching as Chanyeol’s ring glints sharp under the ocean sun.

Months fly by, and they do too. Asia and then Europe. Quick trips through foreign countries filled with kisses and professions of love. Baekhyun ignores the reminders they only have a few months left. When he feels like he can’t breathe, when his hands start to shake—he touches his ring. His own reminder. Chanyeol’s promise.

But Chanyeol doesn’t promise him anymore, and it scares him. It scares him to think that his lover isn’t promising a future for them anymore. Instead Chanyeol looks at him, he kisses him, he tells him he loves him.

And that’s what he’s doing right now.

They’re having dinner in Thailand, in the beautiful island of Ko Samui. Candlelight paints their faces, the yellow hue casting shadows and turning Chanyeol soft. He holds Baekhyun’s hands, thumb grazing the outer plating of silver.

“You’re beautiful tonight,” Chanyeol’s smile turns tender. His hand feels very warm and Baekhyun ignores the weighty pain in his heart. “You’re always beautiful.”

There’s chatter coming from the other tables, slightly loud despite the ambient atmosphere, but Baekhyun ignores it. He ignores anything but the sight of his boyfriend, but the sight of Chanyeol who sits next to him, who holds him, who tells him he’s beautiful.

“Whatever happens Baekhyun, I’ll always love you. I love you now. I’ll love you forever. This ring,” he rubs harder at the ring and Baekhyun’s fingers jerk. “I can’t promise you we’ll get married anymore. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.” There’s a look of despair on Chanyeol’s face, the culmination of a broken promise and of two broken dreams. Baekhyun shushes him. “Instead, take it as a promise of my love. Always and forever. That is what you have.”

When they return home, Baekhyun briefly returns to work. Jongdae embraces him, eager to keep him company. They have only two months left before their tickets force them to fly off to the Hague.

“Baekhyun, I’m always here for you, okay?” Jongdae promises.

It’s nice of him, and Baekhyun pats him on the back in appreciation. But what hurts is how everyone treats Chanyeol like he’s dead already. Like there isn’t possibility at all that Chanyeol might be the one coming back instead.

Sehun treats him the same, especially clingy around Chanyeol now. He looks constantly devastated when he drops by and Baekhyun rubs in the crease of his shoulder blades, wishing his dongsaeng wasn’t so stressed.

“First noona and now hyung. Now both you hyungs. He’s gonna. He’s gonna die,” Sehun breaks down one day when Chanyeol’s out to buy groceries. He’s sniffling on the couch as he holds onto a photo of the three of them from their trip to the US.

“Sehunnie…” Baekhyun’s heart cracks. He breathes in through his nose and then out through his mouth, hands tremoring. He tries it to hide it. Inhale. Exhale. Sehun’s here. Inhale. Chanyeol’s gonna die. Exhale.

He’s mostly come to terms with everything. Mostly. Baekhyun tries not to dwell on things. It’s not good for him, and he freaks. He always freaks out. His hands shake, he can’t breathe, he feels like he’s dying already. Chanyeol tells him to calm down, by inhaling and exhaling, by rubbing his ring. Chanyeol’s alive. Chanyeol loves him.

And besides, he has a plan anyway. Not that anyone knows it.

He’s had one for a while, for a few months, ever since his brother had met him for the first time. Ever since Chanyeol had started pulling him to go out. There was no way he was going to let Chanyeol’s smile grace the world for the last time on his birthday. The courts don’t know what’s important. Another Tag Engineer? No. Chanyeol imparts life into the world. He imparts _love_. The whole world benefits. And if Baekhyun has anything to say, then Chanyeol will continue to impart love.

Baekhyun makes sure he sees everyone. His parents, Sehun, Yoora, Jongdae, his friends from work, the few people he sees in the morning whenever he walks, Baekbeom.

Baekbeom knows he’s up to something when he comes by.

“What are you doing?”

Baekhyun breathes in through his nose, the heaviness of his heart a feeling that never leaves. “I love you, hyung.”

“I love you too but what are you doing?” Baekbeom looks worried and partly devastated.

“There’s nothing to worry about—I’ve been studying for years now. I just need to make sure I can do it correctly,” he promises, or at least tries to promise. “I’m going to turn off my GPS device. To make it seem like I’m dead. Hopefully there are no side-effects.”

He’s been studying memory loss, he hopes it’s not all for nothing.

Baekbeom hugs him tight. Very tight. He grips onto him and squeezes, making him promise that he comes back.

“You have to come back. Tell me when you’re doing this. Call me. Message me. Anything. I can’t lose you too.”

Baekhyun’s heart feels even heavier.

“Take care of yourself, hyung.”

Chanyeol is sleeping when he gets home.

If everything goes correctly, he’ll need a new identity. They’ll have to go on the run. He knows Chanyeol will be up for it, he’ll be up for anything. A new country, a new identity. It’s bad, but it’s not the worst.

But if things go wrong, and due to the delicate nature of the procedure, that has a very high chance of occurring, then… well…

Chanyeol sleeps very peacefully, Baekhyun notes. Always in foetal position, legs curled into a ball and arms wrapped around his pillow. It’s cute and Baekhyun crawls into bed, snuggling up behind him as the bigger spoon. He drags his feet down the other’s leg, smiling a little when a very shapely ass grinds into his stomach.

“Back from your hyung’s?” Chanyeol whispers, voice gruff and sleep-addled.

“I am,” Baekhyun responds, pressing a kiss into the back of a strong neck.

“Welcome back,” he greets, turning around and imparting a loving kiss.

Out of everyone, it is ultimately the hardest to say goodbye to Chanyeol. As it should be. Baekhyun has faith in his skills, he has to. He’s been working for months, years, if he doesn’t have faith then he might as well be giving his will to Chanyeol now.

Chanyeol has been his light in the world, has helped him, has protected him, has looked after him. They spend days in bed together, enjoy expensive lunches. When they eat dinner, it feels so much like the Last Supper, Baekhyun nearly vomits up all the fancy truffle rice. Chanyeol enjoys it. Chanyeol has no clue what’s going on.

“This is nice,” he says with a wide grin, dressed in a light-pink sleeved shirt. He looks around the restaurant and Baekhyun forces back the sick feelings.

When they leave, Baekhyun takes him to the Han River but it’s he who gives a gift this time. A necklace.

“Here,” he grabs Chanyeol’s hand and takes the ring off his finger. Then, he loops the necklace through it, watching as the silver weight hangs heavy by the end of the chain. “Now you can wear this close to your heart.”

Under the streetlights, Chanyeol looks touched. So moved and touched, he grabs Baekhyun and stuffs his face in his shoulder.

“I love it! I love it.”

He repeats the words a thousand times and Baekhyun feels worse. Worse and worse and worse and worse. But he smiles, tries to at least, a sight that’s probably gruesome on his face. Chanyeol kisses him, and Baekhyun can feel the ring-turned-necklace press into his chest like dull lead, heavy and permanent.

This may be the last time he’ll ever enjoy a date with Chanyeol.

They stand by the river and watch, eyes catching sight of the home lights that eventually turn off and say good-night to the world at large. Good night, Baekhyun thinks a little abstractly. And maybe good bye.

Chanyeol holds him, arms heavy like immovable barriers, keeping him within, as if he somehow knew about Baekhyun’s plans. The older man’s heart thumps in his chest, heavy, pounding, painful.

“I love you,” he whispers as he turns around. Chanyeol’s face lights up like the stars of the night.

It’s with a heavy heart and a thick lump in his throat that he manages to say goodbye to the other. He says there’s a late night work party. Chanyeol believes him. There’s no reason for him not to. He doesn’t question when Baekhyun can’t stop kissing him in the car. He doesn’t ask why Baekhyun can’t stop hugging him, not letting his lips stray from smooth skin. Chanyeol kisses him back. Kisses him just as hard. Just as fierce. Just as strong. He doesn’t ask why Baekhyun starts crying when he turns away. He trusts Baekhyun.

He trusts him.

Baekhyun drives off.

*~*

Chanyeol isn’t dumb.

He knows Baekhyun deals with things on his own. Three years into their relationship, Baekhyun becomes different. He turns elusive. Suddenly all Chanyeol can do is be there for him, a strong presence for Baekhyun to turn to if he wants to reveal things.

He expects Baekhyun to.

But Baekhyun doesn’t. He keeps things to himself. That’s the kind of person he is. There’s a pain he goes through, and all Chanyeol can do is kiss the dark circles away, can soothe the pain the best he can with warm touches glossing over the older man’s skin.

He thinks things are getting better but then suddenly when he turns 30, they both receive notices. _Both_ of them. Baekhyun gets even worse. Now he suddenly has panic attacks and Chanyeol doesn’t know what to do. His promise becomes null and void. They’re not going to have a future together. It’s impossible. He knows how this system works.

They send an email but he knows that’s moot too. One of them is going to die. He’s going to die. It’s something that mulls in his head for nearly a year, the knowledge that he’s soon going to die. There’s no doubt about it. And so he forces himself to do things. Takes Baekhyun on trips. Makes sure he enjoys life. Enjoys the world before he passes.

But that’s the thing. Chanyeol was supposed to be the one dying. Him. It was supposed to be him. It was _supposed to be him_.

“I’m so sorry, Chanyeol,” Baekbeom stands by his door, a sheen of tears building in his eyes. And he’s saying things that aren’t true. That _can’t_ be true. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?” He takes a ragged breath, a heart-wrenching sob in his chest.

It can’t be true. It was supposed to be him. _Him_. This whole time, it was supposed to be _him_. Not… Not…

He grips the necklace that hangs by his chest, feeling the cool metal solder into his skin and burn straight through his heart. It can’t be true. It _can’t be_.

“He has been planning this for awhile now but things, they, things went wrong.”

How can Baekbeom be so cruel, to stand by his door and spout such _lies_. Baekhyun isn’t gone. Baekhyun’s alive. He’s just been stuck at his work party all night and his phone ran out of battery—he’ll be coming back soon. Baekbeom is a liar. He’s a fucking liar. He’s… a…

“Get out of my house.” Chanyeol says, voice quiet.

“Chanyeol—”

“Get out of my _fucking_ house!” He yells loudly, banging his fist on the door. Baekbeom quietens, mouth snapping shut. He acquiesces to Chanyeol’s demands though, leaving with a painful glance. Chanyeol closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to cast Baekbeom’s pitying look out of his head. He _can’t_ though, and it angers him. He slams the door loudly, throwing all his strength into it. It shuts with a loud crash, a souvenir from the US clattering on the ground.

A rush of emotions fly through him at an alarming rate. Anger, sadness, wariness, distrust, love, fear. There’s a pounding in his chest, running to his ears, and it takes awhile for him to realise it’s his heart thumping like a drum, loud and heavy and entirely there. Baekhyun is alive. Baekhyun is _alive_.

He has to be.

Chanyeol falls to his knees, pain blossoming in his joints. His fingers clench hard in his hair, strands of dark falling out. Air isn’t… working. He can’t breathe. Baekhyun is supposed to be the one alive. Not _him_. He was supposed to the sacrifice. Baekhyun was supposed to live.

“Get out of my house,” he whispers, slowly, softly at nothing. “And bring Baekhyun back.”

Baekbeom wasn’t lying.

Baekhyun was supposed to live.

He was supposed to die.

He clutches at his necklace, cool and heavy against his chest. Once a promise, once a reminder, now forever a memory.

*~*

It takes a few years but eventually the system gets repealed. The world’s population becomes manageable without the need for constant yearly killings. They dedicate the last fifty years to the ones who passed. A memorial is set up in the Hague. A tribute.

Many visit, the mural filled with dozens of bouquets. Chanyeol watches on the news. And then he turns to the next channel.

It takes a long time before he’s healed. But even that is a relative term. He’s lucky he has Sehun and Yoora. And Baekbeom, surprisingly. They become close. It initially hurts because Baekbeom is so similar to Baekhyun looks-wise, but everything else about him is just as different. And yet, together they come in times of need, because of a brother and a lover.

He dedicates his music to Baekhyun. He sings and the songs are about a man he once knew, who had soft lips and fire in his voice. When he performs, he wears the necklace that hangs by his heart. His reminder, his promise.

Sometimes he dreams of Baekhyun, he remembers a lithe body that was so strong. Filled with life. Taken too soon.

*~*

The day is warm.

The grass is slightly dry, a little brown from sunlight and a period of no rain. It twirls in the wind, wisps of green-brown flittering before they are eventually crunched under Chanyeol’s feet. The stone is heavy, imposing as they stand directly in front of it. Wind whistling like an outdoor charm, Chanyeol bends down and holds the necklace against his chest.

“Hi baby, we’re doing good. It’s nice to see you again. I hope heaven’s treating you well.”

_Baekhyun Byun_

“Sehun’s wife gave birth and it’s another girl,” he chuckles slightly, twisting the necklace around. “So many girls now huh. Baekbeom has another girlfriend, but he’s promised me this is the final one. I think he’s gonna marry her. He said I’ll be one of his groomsmen.” Chanyeol clears his throat, and breathes out slowly. “He called me his brother-in-law. I teared up, and he whacked me on the back. He’s on his way to fifty, I can’t believe it. Time’s flown so fast.”

_Born 2062 | Died 2093_

“I wish you could see us, baby. We’re doing good, we are, really. I’m keeping my promise, as I promised you. I love you, Baek. A promise for now and forever.” Chanyeol presses a kiss against the ring of his necklace and reaches over to rub at the gravestone. “Bye baby. See you later.”

_A lover, a brother and a son. But most of all, an inspiration._

“Come Tara,” he smiles towards his second companion, reaching an arm. His daughter runs into his arms and buries her head into his shoulder. “Say bye to your appa.”

“Okay daddy,” Tara smiles, wide and toothy for a six-year-old, waving one last goodbye. “Bye appa.”

“Let’s go home, baby girl.”

 


End file.
